White Nymph
by fetch-thranduilion
Summary: Refina, or Rafina, or Raphine, or Rephina, supposedly pilots a white Alseides. Only the Ispano make white Guymelefs...but first, she has to deal with her cousin Ryuon and a certain army commander.
1. Soldier Baby

Yay, my first all-Escaflowne fic (though it will tie to Judecca someday, as do all things)! Hopefully it's not too terrible...not that many people write for Refina/Rafina/Refiinu/Raphine...I spell it "Rephina" because I like the way that looks the best. (sweatdrop...)

Random explanations, disclaimers, etc: I don't own Escaflowne and apologize for all of the boring practically-OC-need-to-develop-a-video-game-character exposition at the beginning here. I tried to throw in enough cameos that it would be entertaining...and I know in the show the sea dragon god is called "Jichia" but as I pull dialogue from the drama CD "Thought of the Jeture" I figured that's how I should spell it. While I'm talking about the drama CD, it never says on there that Adelphos was present at that meeting, or that Dilandau was acting against orders, or that Ezgardia was the enemy in question. The lines I used were from a dream sequence. I had to flesh it out somehow (and, if you care, Ezgardia does indeed border Zaibach, assuming the map I found isn't lying to me).

Little nitpicky things: yes, Ryuon's hair is actually blonde in the show though he's brunette in the movie (he's the guard to the left when you first see Dilandau lounging in his lion-chair-monstrosity; Kagero is to the right...or so I am told); no, they never explicitly state that Zaibach is fascist but all signs point to it in my opinion (with the exception of it being based on industrial-era England); and I personally have nothing against the military. All negative, cynical opinions are Rephina's (though I suppose I am to blame for that aspect of her character...sigh). As it is, I'm merely telling a story, not trying to make any kind of political commentary. Escaflowne is a war story, and so even in fics set before the show starts (like this one), there will be military maneuvering.

I have talked for far too long. Here, then, is the story at hand.

**Chapter One: Soldier Baby**

The Zaibach Empire could boast of many things, but its beauty wasn't one of them. Once little more than a wasteland, the harsh infertile swaths of countryside had, in the 200 years since the emperor's coronation, given way to equally harsh infernal cities. A greenish smog hung perpetually over the dreary metallic skyline; all the lights in each metropolis weren't enough to dispel the constant vapors. For natives of the empire, the pollution was just a fact of life, the way the cloud of rumors surrounding the capital—a cloud no less dense than the tangible one—was a fact of life.

Yet for Paxton Jetura, eldest son of a wealthy once-Asturian merchant, the smog was nothing short of a nemesis.

"It's bad today, girl," he coughed into a handkerchief as he attempted to eat his breakfast. His stocky middle-aged frame shook as he gagged on the air drifting in from the stuck-open window, a window he'd previously been too miserly to fix but was now reassessing. "I think you'd better--"

But his niece was already gone. Rephina Caina Jetura (physical age eighteen, mental age twenty-something) sighed heavily as soon as she was out of her uncle's earshot, pulling her long blonde hair into a thick ponytail atop her head as she made her way to the stairs. She was dressed in the sort of lacy frock only the Asturians could dream up, the sword slapping her leg with each confident step canceling out the impression of a noblewoman but ironically accentuating the grace of her walk. By no standards would she have been called a "classic beauty," however; her eyebrows were a bit too thick, her nose a bit too snubbed, her mouth a bit too large for that. Her bright blue eyes were her only arresting feature, yet were only so due to the challenges lurking within. "Try me, I dare you," her every move seemed to beckon. "You won't win." She worked in her uncle's import store, and was an expert haggler. No customer came out paying less than they'd intended to, yet all believed firmly they'd gotten a good deal. And watching them leave would be Rephina, her smiling lips wishing them a good afternoon while her eyes screamed "you idiot" at their retreating backs.

Today, though, dark circles lined those eyes; the challenge daring poor fools to play was a bit less sparkling. She was dead tired, damn frustrated, and thoroughly ashamed of herself.

"It's a miracle he's still letting me work," she growled to herself with a wry grimace, the bells on the door from the stairs to the store tinkling as she yanked it closed. Then, turning, the gargoyle vanished and Rephina the Merchant was in business for the day. "Good morning, ma'am! What can I do for you today?"

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"...but what I want to know, Rephina, is if you saw any Knights Caeli on your trip to Asturia?"

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, forced an expression of pleasantry to remain plastered on her face. "Actually, yes. We dined at the palace as special guests of Meiden Fassa, and they greeted us as we entered. They were very polite." _But rather less so when we left..._

"If I were Asturian," the taller of the two recruits she was talking to said to his companion, "I think that's what I'd like to be."

"But there's only twelve! I mean, you're good, but are you that good?"

"Stuff it, Shes!" The taller boy cuffed his friend playfully on the shoulder. "Do you even have to ask?"

"But you'd have to let your hair grow, wouldn't you?" asked the smaller boy, eyeing his fellow soldier's short ash-blond hair skeptically. "My sister went to Asturia once and came back pining for a Caeli she'd seen on guard duty, and he wore his hair to here--" he gestured to his belt level "--if not lower."

Rephina smirked. "Oh, _him_. Your sister isn't alone in that one, I hear." Honestly, if they hadn't been soldiers—recruits like Ryuon was—she'd have been sorely tempted to kick their sorry behinds out of her store. She had never looked forward to returning home from a trip until this last one, and all everybody who sauntered in wanted to do was hear about it! Ye gods! "Can I interest you in anything today, though? Gatty?" The tall boy shook his head. She pulled a purple box out from under the counter. "Not even...Asturian chocolates?"

"Hiding that isn't fair!" yelped the smaller boy, yet he stared at the sweets hungrily. He poked his friend. "Gatty—please—it's nothing twenty pushups won't work off--"

The taller boy wavered but stood firm, conflicted emotions in open battle across his face.

"Please?" wheedled the small one. "I'll do your latrine duty and--"

"We'll take them." Gatty handed over the money and accepted the box in return. "Thanks, Rephina. Sounds like a great trip."

"You have no idea," she said through gritted teeth. "I'll tell Ryuon you stopped by. Have a nice day."

"Bye, Reph!"

"Bye, Shesta...yes, go, go. Back to camp, back to labor, back to brainwashing central," she added snidely to herself as the door clanged shut behind the pair. A wooden crate, its wares newly unloaded, lay next to her; she kicked it aside and watched with pent satisfaction as it bashed against the side of the counter. "Back to our beautiful army and your dreams of Knights Caeli mindlessly defending ideals more outdated than the poufs of their sleeves. Back to others deciding for you what's important." Kicking the crate had been stupid. She could have broken something if her aim had been off. Save her frustration for sparring with Ryuon when she got home. Her young cousin was every bit as enamored with the so-called Glory of the Empire as those two clowns, but at least he had a head of his own on his shoulders. Not like all the others who stopped by—mere children wanting to get something special for their sweethearts, or to send to their parents, or simply so they could enjoy the precious few hours off every day. Not like all those cherubs the Empire was training to be baby-faced killing machines. Sheep, the lot of them. Bloody patriotic sheep.

"Baa," grumbled Rephina, scowling at her dogged reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall. What a messed-up system. Not that Asturia had been any better...she could see how the two countries could be allies, how her uncle could live straddling both worlds. They both blindly followed their idols. In Zaibach, the people worshiped their emperor, with his prophetic visions of an ideal future soon to come. In Asturia, the god was much more commonplace—it clinked in every man's coffer.

"Sorry, Jeture," she told a small marble statue on a shelf to her right. The image of Asturia's sea dragon protector, her grandfather's namesake, stared disapprovingly down as she informed it, "I'm afraid you've been replaced." Stupid, stupid Meiden Fassa! How he'd finally provoked a rise out of her—when she'd been on her best behavior, fearing a trick or three—she still couldn't remember. It had been something to do with his son, the vagabond—Meiden had made some snide comment about how the man wouldn't take orders from anyone, even his own father, and Rephina had jumped to the absent son's defense, much to the shock of everyone present. Her uncle had finally managed to convince Fassa and King Aston that it had been the vino talking, that she'd been out in the sun too long "for a woman", but the younger princess had squirmed all evening whenever Rephina looked at her and the elder had shot her glares that could have frozen lava. What had she said that was so radical? "I like the way he lives his life." Nothing wrong with respecting someone who did what you always wanted to do but couldn't. Nothing wrong with admiring a man who wouldn't let himself be tied down. Whereas she--

Her fingers stroked the supple cover of the red beaded journal she'd bought as a souvenir before the trip had soured. "If I used it to list everything I'm tied to, I'd fill the blasted thing," she grumbled to the Jeture statue. "And I didn't tie myself to any of it. If I'm gonna be tethered, I wanna do it myself."

Jeture didn't have an answer for her. So much for talking to God. Ah, well. Who needed Him anyway? Just another tether line.

The clock chimed closing hour, and Rephina sighed in relief, sagging over the countertop. No last-minute rush. Nothing to keep her here. She was free—for tonight.

"I take it back," she told Jeture before closing up, then hurried home to be with the one tie in her life that she didn't mind personally—her cousin Ryuon.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Holy--" Kagero choked on his meat, glasses sliding down his nose as his head jerked forward. Swallowing, he regained his composure. "You're not kidding, she puts a lot of spices on it!"

Ryuon handed his best friend the water pitcher, grinning. "But admit it: it sure beats the tasteless slop we get in the mess hall, right?"

"Goes without saying," the bespectacled boy replied, mouth already full of food. "I wish I had a fussy rich father who forced the army to let me stay in a flat."

"Yes, but do you have a cousin who can cook?" asked Rephina pointedly, her mood as predicted considerably improved. She'd panicked a little when Ryuon had brought company home from the barracks (as for where Kagero was supposed to be, she figured it was better not to ask), but had quickly found herself at ease with the boy. He had a quick mind and a quicker tongue, and wasn't afraid to use either: when asked by Rephina how a boy with less-than-perfect vision had been admitted to the army, he had smiled broadly and replied "I don't need to see my enemy. I'm that good." Some people found such cockiness to be an instant turn-off. It endeared him to Rephina immediately.

"So what's new in the murderer factory?" she asked Ryuon, who knew exactly how she felt about his chosen career and had both the dignity and presence of mind to withstand her taunting. "Any blueprints for world domination?"

Ryuon shook his head, sending his highly styled blonde hair swinging back and forth. "Reph, we don't want things like that. All I want is to be able to defend Zaibach from her enemies."

"He wants to be a spy," Kagero informed her, sawing at his meat with the grace of a novice fiddler. "I heard him asking if there were special training sessions he needed to enroll in."

"Ryu, you didn't!" She put down her fork and stared at him. "With your father a merchant? Are you crazy?" But a voice in the back of her head murmured: _Good for you, Ryuon...if it's really what you want._

"The correct term," Ryuon replied loftily, "is 'communications specialist.' That is, the enemy communicates, and I specialize in finding out. And actually," his tone grew a bit more sober, though still lively, "I did hear one piece of news I found interesting. You know the misunderstanding along the Ezgardian border? Where they thought we were going to invade--"

"I know," Rephina assured him. Really, the story made her sick. According to Zaibach messengers, Ezgardia had assumed the military buildup along their border with the Empire had signified a possible invasion and launched a disastrous pre-emptive strike—disastrous, htat was, for the Ezgardian army. The squad that had been sent was completely wiped out, with even their general among the fallen. While the empire mourned the tragic understanding and the troops had fallen back, an undercurrent of pride at a job well done had so permeated the story that some citizens had forgotten what they were supposed to be sad about. In Rephina's eyes the affair was an absolute debacle—not only for the loss of life but also for the sheer idiotic stupidity of it all. Baa-baa, say the sheep with swords, and down they fall. Stupid Ezgardia.

"Well, anyway," Ryuon continued, unabashed by his cousin's interruption, "they say the soldier who beheaded the general has been ordered back here to the training center. Nobody will say if he's being rewarded or punished, but apparently he's young. Real young."

"Which in terms the world understands is--?" asked Kagero. Apparently he didn't possess the same connections as his aspiring "communications specialist" friend.

"Fourteen." Ryuon sipped his water calmly as Rephina and Kagero turned to him in shock, Kagero wiping up a spill he'd created upon hearing the age.

"Does Soldier Baby have a name?" he asked with all the sagacity the one-year age difference bestowed. "And how'd he get in? You aren't adult and eligible for recruitment until fifteen, let alone seeing actual combat!"

Ryuon attacked his spiced meat with his fork. "I heard it but don't remember. Some godawful unpronounceable thing. Ended in a 'u,' I think."

"Yeah, you'll make a great spy," Rephina drawled, standing and taking her empty plate to the kitchen. "Hurry up, doppelganger. If we're going to spar tonight I want to do it sometime before it gets pitch black." It was an expression. Nowhere on Zaibach was it ever completely dark.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Rephina knew something was wrong when she woke up and couldn't hear noise coming from Ryuon's room. Kagero hadn't returned to the barracks until late the previous night; she didn't envy where he stood at all. Who knew what they'd do to him?...but it had been his decision. She was determined to be completely impassive to the issue—unless he got Ryuon involved, in which case she'd punch Kagero's four-eyed face in. Then she'd see how good he really was without his glasses. Hopefully, though, her Fist of Vengeance wouldn't need to be unleashed. She liked the kid.

So Ryuon had been up later than was probably good for him. _Ugh_, she thought, body wound in her sheets and gazing blearily at the ceiling, _if he's still asleep in there I'm gonna--_

Wait. What time was it? Blinking until her eyes swam into focus, she turned her head to the clock on her bedside stand.

Holy Jeture. Ryuon wasn't the late one. She was. Curse him! Why hadn't he woken her up? She was going to be late for work—already was, as a matter of fact. Had she really looked like she needed sleep that badly?

Remembering her face in the shop mirror as she stumbled towards the kitchen, Rephina groaned. It had been a stupid question, anyway.

Something was wrong in the kitchen, too; despite the fact that Ryuon had very kindly left his breakfast dishes for his cousin to wash, the area still looked too damn clean. What was missing?

She groaned again. Gods, was she going to be a favorite with Uncle Paxton today. Not only was she so late as to not even be considered "fashionable", his precious son—the son for whom he set aside his otherwise miserly standards—had rushed off to Soldierland without packing himself a lunch. That shouldn't have been a problem for any sane person—after all, the rest of the soldiers were provided lunch—but Rephina wasn't convinced of her uncle and employer's sanity. "No son of MINE will eat that swill!" Paxton Jetura had declared after breaking bread with the army once, and yet another "agreement" had been reached between the merchant and the military. She'd often wondered why they hadn't kicked Ryuon out or refused his father's demands. They must have really needed the money.

"Army of Zaibach Broke," she muttered to herself, the imaginary headline scrolling through her mind as she rushed back to her room and yanked on pants, a tunic, and boots—while normally dresses were fine with her, she didn't feel very ladylike today. "Currently Dependent on Funds from Half-Asturian Madman with Pampered Son." She debated adding "and Overworked Niece" but struck it from the draft; on normal days she rather liked her job, enjoyed the battle of wits that came with haggling and loved the travel opportunities restocking provided. Meiden Fassa's shadow was still haunting her, that was all. If Rephina ever met the benighted son, she wasn't sure if she'd hug him or run him through. He certainly was causing her a lot of trouble—and she'd never met the man.

"I need a hobby," she decided as she packed Ryuon a very hasty and not necessarily gourmet lunch; she was angry at him, after all. "I brood too much."

Ironically, debating this train of thought occupied her all the way to the army's training grounds just outside the capital, at which point she made a very unpleasant discovery.

Her day was about to get a lot worse. She was lost.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"They must lose a lot of sheep in this place." She looked for a clock on the wall and was half-relieved not to see one. "It's signed very poorly."

Rephina didn't know how long she'd been wandering the halls of Army HQ looking for the barracks, but she was astonished no one had stopped her yet. After passing a desk in the front entrance, being patted down, and surrendering her sword, she'd been directed into a hallway leading to another leading to a veritable labyrinth. She wondered if they had security shadowgraphers installed, and if the soldiers on duty were laughing at her. Let them laugh. Someone at least ought to have a good day.

But she wasn't so defeated that she was willing to knock on doors and ask for directions. Her own idiocy had let her into this knot, and it was going to get her out. Sorry if your lunch will be late, Ryuon. Pack your own next time...

_You're only eighteen,_ she reminded herself, leaning against a wall. _You can't do it all._

_So why does everyone expect me to?_

"...One would not expect a fourteen-year-old to be capable of such a magnificent feat."

_No, eighteen_, Rephina thought crossly before realizing the voice was coming from the other side of the wall. Ye gods, the wall was a door, and there were people on the other side of it!

"You honor me by your praise, Magician."

And not just any people, she was willing to bet. She'd heard "fourteen-year-old" before. Kagero's "Soldier Baby" was in there, meeting with whoever he was...Magician? There was a Magician in there?

Rephina's brain said "run." The rest of her pressed her ear against the door and listened more closely. Maybe this would humble Ryuon properly, the would-be spy bested by his cousin...plus Soldier Baby's voice intrigued her. Low, yet childish, with a music to it she'd never heard before. Yes, this would be worth hearing.

"As I am now the emperor's direct subordinate strategist..." the Magician's deep voice was saying; Rephina's heart thudded at the thought of someone that important being so close despite herself "...Dilandau, per Dornkirk's imperial decree, a special forces unit will be formed under your command." Dilandau? _Ryuon, please._ It wasn't that hard a name to pronounce. "Personnel selection will be left to you..."

"Are you mad, Strategos?" flared a third voice. "The boy is good, I'll grant you that, but the responsibility..."

"I'm standing right here," drawled the soldier in question lazily. "You have a problem, General? Take it up with me."

"General Adelphos, I'm sure an agreement can be reached..." began the Magician.

"I'm not questioning the emperor!" protested the head of the Red Copper Army. "Heaven forfend that. I have faith in him. But Dilandau Albatou...your actions, while brave and glorious for Zaibach, went against your commanding officer's orders. How can we be certain you won't rebel again?"

"Oh, Emperor Dornkirk took care of that," replied the voice easily; she could tell from his tone he was smiling. A merchant's smile: _I won._ "He made me the commanding officer. Hard to rebel from there, isn't it?" A pause, and what might have been a sputter from the general, then the marvelous fluid voice said, "Thanks again, Strategos. Now, where's the barracks? I need to pick my men." A light but definite emphasis was placed on the word "my".

"Just through that door to your right," the Magician called Strategos instructed, and Rephina scrambled away from the door as quickly as she could, back flattened against the opposite wall. She couldn't believe going to the barracks could be that easy after all the wandering around she'd done, knew she really should give it a try before she came face-to-face with three of the most important people in the Zaibach military and thus the empire itself, but...she had to know. What did Soldier Baby—real name Dilandau Albatou—look like?

The door slid open. Three men blinked in shocked surprise at her, a young woman in civilian's clothes clutching a luncheon bag close to herself in the halls of a Zaibach Army bastion. Three different sets of suspicions were instantly formed.

Rephina realized neither how suspicious nor out-of-place she looked. The paragon of everything she'd ever wanted to be—of self-reliance, of disregard for tradition, of willful madness and irreverence—stood only a hall's breadth away. In hushed awe at the creature before her, her heart stopped. Her mind began composing frantic letters, for she was certain she could not speak; they all began _Dear Perfection..._

Rephina Caina Jetura, physical age eighteen. Mental age twenty-something. Emotional age...twelve or so.

With only one look, she was in way over her head.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0

a/n: Thus Rephina joins the ranks of the blissful yet hopeless...the idolizers. I read a translation of the character notes that came with the game and it said she crushed on him because of his aura/essence, so it was either make her a pyro too or go this route. I must admit, it was fun playing with her character to achieve this result...

One final note before I go. Normally I don't give characters last names if they aren't given them in their original story, let alone middle names, but there is a reason for the "Caina." That's the only level of Dante's Cocytus that hasn' t been mentioned in "Judecca" (mainly because I have a Cain and a Kain in the story already and to name a place that too would just be...ouch), and it is where the Traitors to Kin go. Foreshadowing? You decide.

Coming up when I type it (this one's being handwritten first, as opposed to "Judecca"): Rephina deals with dragons, Dilandau, and diaries, and Uncle Paxton gets some VERY unwelcome news.


	2. Who the Hell are You?

I feel like there were lots of things I had to point out for this chapter, but I remember next to none...sorry for the tiny little OOC Adelphos moment; I agonized about whether or not it should stay in...I used "magician" last chapter when the more common translation is "sorceror"; sorry if that threw anyone off...Rephina changes a lot of her own accord in this chapter, and I hope she's still believable. Her hypocrisy, as well as everyone's misinterpretations (or partial interpretations) of Dilandau's character are intentional. Sorry if she bothers anyone; after this chapter, I start injecting some little Ryuon bits to break up her, um, obsessiveness. While it's necessary...it gets old.

I don't own Escaflowne. Characterizations of Rephina, Kagero, and Ryuon are my own, working with what very little is out there. Heck, with Kagero and Ryuon there isn't anything. (Movie Ryuon doesn't count for reasons to be explained, as I said earlier...hence why I gave this one a totally different personality.) Anyway, heeere's...

**Chapter Two: Who The Hell Are You?**

"Dilandau Albatou?" Kagero's left eye was so puffy his glasses wouldn't sit straight on his face. "He's all everyone talked about today. And he's nuts."

"He cut off that general's head to keep him from surrendering so the battle would continue," added Ryuon grimly. "Or at least that's what I heard."

"He first piloted a 'melef when he was twelve, and upgraded to a guymelef six months later after trashing the old one in an Energist mine." Kagero's eyes kept flicking to the clock on the wall, checking the free time he had left. Apparently he didn't want his commanding officer to turn his eyes into a matching set.

"Why would they upgrade him if he trashed the one he had?" asked Rephina, refilling Kagero's piscus juice.

Ryuon snorted. "Apparently a dragon came to the graveyard to die and got helped along a bit. He ripped out its Energist with his bare hands. While it was still breathing."

"I wonder if he kept it?" wondered Kagero with the morbid curiosity unique to sheltered adolescents.

"You're disgusting," Rephina told him flatly, but she hung onto every word. It was fascinating. Why had no one heard of this man until now? Where had he come from, that he could commit such reckless acts and not only survive, but be promoted for them? Personally, she thought Dilandau had indeed kept the Energist. She could see him in her mind's eye, a mere slip of a silver-haired boy, standing disheveled and discolored yet triumphant amid the carcass of the dragon, one pale hand gripping the hard-won jewel as if to say, "I won this myself, so no one may deprive me of it. I rely on no skills but my own. What I need, I take—no questions asked." All her life, she had wanted that to be her own creed. Yet things kept piling up...how did he manage to keep his outlook so simple? Didn't he have a family?

"Is he native?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant. "You'd think a twelve-year-old killing a dragon would merit a mention somewhere."

"That's the creepy thing," said Kagero, dropping his voice. "Nobody knows."

"And anyway," interjected Ryuon, "why do you care? Where'd you hear the name, anyway?"

Touchy that he hadn't remembered it yesterday? Ryuon, that was almost cute. "Oh, I met him today," she said casually, steepling her fingers lightly and resting her chin atop them. "How was training?"

"Hold on." Kagero adjusted his glasses, blinked at her. "You're saying you—met Dilandau Albatou? Where?"

"In HQ. You forgot your lunch, Ryuon," she told him ruefully. He sighed.

"I know. The cooks wouldn't feed me in the mess hall since I usually pack. When you never showed up I thought you'd figured I made one. Where were you?"

"Sidetracked."

"With Dilandau?" asked Kagero.

"You could say that." She gave them her best enigmatic smile, thoroughly enjoying watching them writhe in anticipation. Finally, someone else's turn to be on tenterhooks. "Trying to find you, I ran into him and a few of his friends."

"What was he like?" For all of Ryuon's apparent disdain for the man, he certainly was inquisitive enough. Perhaps it was the "communications specialist" in him... "Did you talk?"

"Not really." Awkwardly she fought the blush squirming to rise in her cheeks. "I said excuse me, and he said who the hell are you, and I explained, and General Adelphos confiscated your lunch as he disapproves of special treatment, and Strategos kindly sent me on my way." She sipped her juice, full lips puckering from the sour flavor. "Nothing too exciting." She didn't mention, though she'd enjoyed it, seeing Adelphos sneak a bite of Ryuon's lunch. Why tarnish the man's image? He'd seemed to like the food, so in return she'd keep his sheep in the dark.

Besides, more important things had happened in that hallway. Brilliant, blazing eyes had met her own, a beautifully self-assured voice had addressed her directly. True, the words it had used were harsh and abrupt, but the fearlessness even such words conveyed was staggering. Both Adelphos and the Sorcerer had tried to conceal their suspicions—but Dilandau Albatou was too good for any mask.

They were both gaping at her now, at the mention of General Adelphos this time. Rephina wondered if either knew what "Strategos" meant—probably not, or else Kagero at least would've had a heart attack. She herself wondered how she'd managed to make it through the encounter. Had she sounded too flustered? Too helpless? Too suspicious? Had her hair looked all right when Dilandau saw her?

And what kind of an inane question was that?

"Stop staring at me!" she ordered, embarrassed. "It was nothing, all right? Dil...Lord Albatou just makes quite an impression, that's all. I figured since he's sort of the guest of honor you might..."

"Well, I didn't see him," said Ryuon darkly. "I guess he's just too good for all of us."

This confused Rephina. "But...he was heading for the barracks!" Remembering the purpose of the meeting, she smiled conspiratorially at her cousin and his friend. "He's been given permission to form an elite group of guymelef pilots. So be on your best behavior...although I guess you don't care, Ryuon."

She'd lost Kagero to battle fantasies on the word "guymelef," his eyes shining with imagined glory behind both glasses and bruise. Ryuon, on the other hand, was perfectly lucid...if a bit incredulous. "Why wouldn't I care? This...if you're right, this could be my big break!" Suddenly restless, he stood, pacing the length of the table while running his fingers through his teased blond hair. "Every small-forces group has at least one infiltrator...if I play my cards right, it could be me...Reph, how could you think I wouldn't care?" The question was tinged with an almost whiny hurt, odd in a boy with such a low voice. "This could be it for me!"

"But you don't like him." She said it emotionlessly, trying to understand. She hadn't pegged Ryuon as the type who'd follow someone he hated for the sake of his own petty glory and felt a bit disappointed in her cousin. _Don't tie yourself to the wrong place, Ryuon. You'll never be freed..._ Though it would be nice if Ryuon made the team and invited his commander for dinner.

"I don't like some of his methods," he corrected, still pacing. "But that doesn't negate the fact that he's a brilliant soldier. We should not have won that Ezgardian skirmish—but we did. Why? He cared more about defending Zaibach than what might be said afterwards. And the dragon...that was unnecessary, but he was young. Jeture, the fact that he killed the thing is credentials enough for me to follow him anywhere!"

"You lost me."

Ryuon sighed. "To slay a dragon, Rephina, is to stare down death and win. Not just physically—think about it: an agitated heart draws dragons, so to kill one means you're destroying the consequences of your own anger and fear. You're taking responsibility for your weaknesses so no one suffers because of them. How can you not follow a commander like that?"

She hadn't put it in that light, but while Kagero heckled his metaphor-spouting friend Rephina mulled the words over in her mind, tasting them carefully. Did she agree with him? That Dilandau was worth following went without saying; he transcended the petty tethered flocks of humanity's weaknesses with too much grace to be anything but. She didn't doubt his bravery, either. But the agitation...Fervently she hoped it had not been his heart drawing the great beast to that particular graveyard. In her golden world of the true Free Man, angst and fear were unwelcome guests; a conflicted mind held no appeal at all.

His face flickered before her eyes, a wide smirk distorting features she would have otherwise called attractive. Silver hair framed his pale face, jeweled eyes burned holes in her puny flesh and left her naked and shivering despite the invisible heat waves of confidence rippling from his slender body. Those eyes had narrowed in derision; how could she make them warm with admiration? This man, this untouchable pillar of self-reliance—she wanted to impress him, to leave a mark on that marble soul. Those eyes that had met Death's and laughed—what could she do that would earn their warmth? For all his strength, she was certain he could also be gentle in the presence of one he truly respected; she could almost feel the arms that had ripped free the Energist embracing her lightly, smell the well-worn leather of the true warrior, hear his voice like droplets in a pond savoring her name as she nestled close, safe from the world's involvement in her life as long as he was near: "Rephina. Rephina. Rephina..."

"...Rephina? Are you all right?"

"Just grab the damn juice, Ryu. She's brain-dead. The Sorceror extracted it to experiment on."

"Kagero!" The horror in Ryuon's voice shocked Rephina back to reality. What had she been thinking?--only stricken fools behaved like that! She laughed behind the backs of the starstruck masses demanding to hear about foreign dignitaries and millionaires after her trips; how could she let herself fall into the same pit? Yet if the snare was worth the trap...

"Can women join the army, Ryuon?" she asked suddenly, frowning, and barely heard his reply. Nearly every nerve in her body screamed not to follow the path her mind was mapping out in the footsteps of the silver-haired soldier. How could she willingly submit to the institution against which her spite and her hatred was directed; how could she let herself be herded to the slaughter? Preposterous. She'd die before she'd let someone order her around just because they had more spikes on their armor!

On the other hand, though: what could be a better confession of devotion than to throw everything, including her old prejudices, away? Her livelihood, her lifestyle, even her family would be abandoned if she let herself be swept onto that path. By securing this one tie, she'd sever the rest, most likely permanently. No one in her current life would ever forgive her. But she would be free. And it would have been her own choice.

_What the hell,_ she thought in sudden decisiveness. _What kind of cousin would I be if I encouraged Ryuon to become a spy while my hands were bound against reaching my own dreams? It's about time I determined my own fate. And at the end of the road..._She would bend, she would slave, she would kill, all to impress one man with her sacrifice, a man she gathered wouldn't impress easily. And she had no way of knowing if the trade-off would be worth it.

Standing up and pushing her chair far away from the table, Rephina drew her sword and angled it towards Ryuon. "If you have time, I need to spar," she told him, not caring that her eccentric behavior was etching a worry line between her cousin's eyebrows and making Kagero wish he hadn't returned. Combat was nothing new to her. On the road, every member of a merchant caravan had to be able to defend themselves against marauders. Uncle Paxton was twice the man in girth and half in valor that he used to be, so Rephina trained for them both. One-on-one swordfighting always cleared her head, showed her what truly mattered to her by the thoughts fueling her blows. Someone had once quoted once of Gaea's three master swordsmen to her, and she'd taken the words to heart-- "It's yourself you must hone." Steel would point the way to her future. Rephina had a feeling Dilandau would approve.

O0o0o0o0o0

When had Ryuon gotten so damned good? She hadn't lost to him in ages, but look at her now!

"You want to call it a day?" he asked, offering her his hand; panting, she swatted it away and clambered to her feet, palms slippery against the hilt of her blade. It was no good. She couldn't focus. She was kidding herself.

No, that couldn't happen! Snarling, she charged Ryuon, who blocked her wild swing with a deft maneuver that turned into a thrust of its own; she barely parried in time. _What kind of idiots are we, sparring with real swords? Someone's going to get hurt...but I don't want it to be me!_ She attacked again. He blocked almost effortlessly. She abandoned technique altogether and swung her weapon like a club; decisively he sent it flying from her sweaty hands. She made a grab for it, but he pressed his foot down hard on the blade to keep her from retrieving it.

"What is wrong  with you?" he asked, concerned yet insistent.

"Aw, what's wrong?" she panted haggardly. "Am I not charging aggressively enough?"

"You're trying to kill me, that's what you're doing! Reph, if you need to vent, just tell me what's wrong! You've been out of it all day but I left you alone. Now I'm just scared! Reph, you aren't yourself! What's eating you?"

She collapsed into the chair Kagero had vacated shortly after the spar had been proposed; his excuse had been that he whacked enough people with sticks all day without doing it on his time off too. Neither cousin knew where he'd gone, but neither cared. Their attention was given solely to each other. "Ryu, I don't know..." she mumbled, burying her face in her arms. "I just don't know."

"Oh yes you do. You know, and you can't tell anyone, and that's what's gotten you this upset. You can trust me. It's just me." He sat next to her, squeezed her hand.

She grinned weakly. "That's what the spy always says."

He didn't return the smile. "You're not funny, Reph. Is it Father? Is he still mad about that pompous Fassa and his pet king? So the man provoked you. You think you're alone in that? He didn't get to his position of power by being anything but a conniving little bas--"

"I hate it when you swear." The frenzy was beginning to drain from her system. She was starting to see what had gotten her so disoriented. There had never been a true conflict in her mind at all—only a decision she'd known all along, hiding behind cowardice in the face of something new. "What you said earlier, about the dragons—where'd you get that?"

"I thought of it myself, based on what I've read about them. Rephina—is it Dilandau you're thinking about?"

Scrunching her eyes closed in shame, she nodded. He squeezed her hand again, then leaned over and shrugged her into a one-armed hug. "Gods, are you that nervous about my wanting to be in his unit? Don't worry—the man's a bit aggressive but I'm sure he's not a total maniac. No soldier worth his spit's that reckless."

She nearly laughed but instead found herself choking back tears. "No, Ryuon, I was just thinking about your poor father. Between your dreams of Soldier Baby and me we're going to send him to an early grave. See—Ryuon, I'm tired of everyone dictating my life. All I want is—gods, Ryu, it sounds so backwards, but I wanna join the army!"

o0o0o0o0o0

"I won't let you," said Paxton Jetura bluntly, pale eyes locked on his niece's with deadly gravity. "Even if they were willing to let you in, which you don't know for sure."

"And which I'll never know if I don't at least try!" snapped Rephina, throwing her arms wide in unexpected desperation. It was like arguing with a castle wall. No, harder. Castle walls could be knocked down with the right guymelefs, and Rephina didn't foresee any synthetic giants arriving to squash her uncle flat anytime soon.

Paxton's frown deepened, spread to the rest of his craggy face. Nervous fingers plucked at the lace on his sleeve in an uncommon sign of emotion from a man used to wearing others down. He was beginning to see for the first time that his perceptions of the world had been backwards: while he had thought Rephina dependent upon him for her livelihood, he in fact relied much more heavily on her. In one last bout, he switched tacts from obstinacy to reason. "We made a contract," he protested slowly. "In exchange for a position in my shop, a position coveted by many applicants more qualified than you, as well as your room and board, you would allow Ryuon to stay with you. Would you abandon your cousin? The boy cannot survive on his own yet."

"So three years later you let him join the army?" As his scowl spread, hers began to dissipate. Her merchant's mind, the frame of thought this very man had taught her, had wound its way through his arguments and stuffed itself in every chink. Oh, she was going to enjoy this. "If he's so helpless, why'd he kick my sorry behind all over the flat when last we sparred?--and you've seen me in action, you can't deny that I can handle a sword."

"For a woman, you wield your blade admirably," her uncle conceded in placating tones, but Rephina wasn't quite finished and had no intentions of stopping. _If you could see me now, Dilandau, realizing how free I've always been—would you be proud, or scornful that it took me so long to discover? Someday I'll know._

"Hear me out, Uncle. Ryuon is receiving no favors from staying with me. Did you know they won't feed him? His reputation is being ruined—and you know how important reputation is. Let him stand on his own two feet; you'd be surprised how tall he's gotten." Why, that was almost poetic. In spite of herself, Rephina flushed with pride. She had him; oh, she had him now! _Watch him, Dilandau. See the crafty look fade from his face as he builds his wall again. He has to hide behind the wall because now he's afraid of me. But I'm only just starting my argument._

"I will not allow you to leave my employment!" he insisted, jabbing a finger to make his point. She arched a honey-coated eyebrow and countered the blow.

"Why not? You said yourself that droves of people—better-qualified people—were after this position. Will I honestly be that hard to replace? After what happened in Asturia, you'll be better off alienating me from now on. Actually, I'm rather doing you a favor." A dagger called "guilt" pricked her stomach; he had been charitable to keep her on after she'd offended a king..._but,_ the obstinately independent part of her mind argued, _did I ask for his charity? No. He just used it to bind me tighter to him. It's all a control game, and I'm ready to break the rules! _"True, when we made the agreement, I was starting out on my own and needed assistance. I thank you for being there in my time of hardship, but the time has come for our agreement to be terminated. I'm not cut out to be a merchant, as I'm sure King Aston would concur. I say too many radical things." _Like that a man I've only seen once can be more important than you, whom I've known for years._

"You are a merchant as long as I say you are, and you work for me as long as I say you do," insisted her uncle before he was interrupted by a fit of coughing, the harsh Zaibach smog agitating his already-distraught condition.

"So what are you going to do if I fail to come to work? Fire me? I leave either way, Uncle Paxton," Rephina stated firmly, confidently—_oh hell, admit it—_triumphantly. "I am leaving your shop. I am joining the army, and you cannot stop me. As long as my superiors allow it, I shall continue to room with Ryuon in the flat, if you are still concerned about his well-being. That much at least I will do for you. But I will pay you rent like a tenant." Victory's embers glowed within her; basking in their light, she allowed her professional facade to crack, and a smile slipped through. Look at him. He was speechless!

Well, not quite. Paxton had one card left in his hand. "You cannot leave whenever you wish. I thought you understood, girl. As my niece, you have an obligation to help me. As family."

So that was why he was so bent on her staying. Not because of her skill at her job...and he had a point. All her tethers, everything she wrestled with, were all tied to that one stake. Family. How had it twisted into such a cage? Distressed, she pursed her lips. _Help me here, Dilandau. If I'm giving everything up for you, you owe me this much. What do I say?_

The answer was on her lips before she knew it, and she was shocked at its coldness even as it slipped from her tongue, but now there really was no turning back.

"I don't believe I chose to be your relation," she told her uncle crisply. "Why should I honor what I did not select?" Turning on her heel, she walked smartly away before he could stammer a reply, her long ponytail swishing like a satisfied cat's tail behind her. Despite herself, she did not look back.

O0o0o0o0o0

That night, Rephina opened the beaded logbook she'd bought in Palas and began a diary. Yet merely writing for herself was not enough.

_Dear Lord Dilandau Albatou,_

_What a difference mere moments can make in a life. I am forever indebted to you for showing me the error of my previous ways and shall strive to further improve myself according to those ideals which you and I profess to share._

_Tomorrow I take my first steps to your side. The army shall not be an easy place for me, but I can hardly believe that you are satisfied with unquestioning loyalty either. Perhaps together we can stand tall above the flock? Look for me; rest assured, my eyes shall be upon you._

Only a very cunning and talented snoop would have noticed the attachment to the entry, scribbled upside-down in tiny print along the bottom margin of her page.

_Dear Jeture, help me! Am I doing the right thing?_


	3. Those Who Stare Down Death

I try to be cute in this chapter. I don't think it works. Boo-hoo for me. I blame the author of An Assembly Such as This, a really freaking excellent Jane Austen fanfic that has Darcy disgracing Beau Brummel in public by trying out a new way of tying his tie. You gotta give your character credit for something big, right?

**Chapter Three: Those Who Stare Down Death**

"Boy, open up! Where's your cousin?" Paxton Jetura had never personally visited Ryuon's flat before, but the young man had a pretty good idea as to why his father chose to appear this particular morning.

"Let me guess," he told his father, leaning lazily on the doorframe like a contented puma, blond hair still mussed from his pillows. "She told you about the army thing."

"She attempted to disown me!" Paxton cried, still outraged. Ryuon sighed. And Rephina had returned home yesterday, all smug and confident, claiming it had gone well! What had she done?

"You might as well come in," he answered heavily, backing out of the door and resigning himself to the inevitable. "She's already gone, but I at least want to know what happened."

o0o0o0o0o0o0

The soldiers had been given a morning of leave to "prepare" for their examinations by Commander Albatou that afternoon, so the complex was more or less deserted when Rephina entered. Gatty, it seemed, was the only soldier putting his morning to its intended use; as he jogged laps around the fence he gave Rephina a friendly, if confused, wave, which she wryly returned. Ryuon was using his morning to rest up; Kagero, to work off punishment for staying out too long. What was the guest of honor doing? she wondered. Preparing? How?

"Miss Jetura." She was surprised the private at the front desk knew her name, but on further consideration decided it must have been because of Ryuon. "What do you need today?" His tone was pleasant, the words and meaning anything but. _Relax, kid,_ she thought. _I swear I won't make a habit of bothering the army. At least, not from this side of that desk._

"Could you point me in the direction of the recruitment office, please?" she asked pleasantly, speaking rather quickly but carefully enunciating each word. _I am not nervous. I'm not._

"This is it." The boy's face became guarded. "Why do you ask?"

Rephina took a deep breath. "I would like to enlist. Is there a form..."

"Excuse me?"

"A form. For personal information...?"

" Before that. I didn't hear correctly."

She injected some venom into her smile. "Yes you did," she replied through her teeth. "I'm enlisting. Is there a regulation prohibiting such an action?"

The private blinked, flustered: a sheep out of his pasture. "Not that I know of. But it's never--"

"And what is going on in here, hm?"

"Commander Albatou!" The private bowed as Dilandau, resplendent in brand-new body armor—red, while his old suit had been orange—half-marched, half-waltzed into the room, one lazy hand on the hilt of his sword. Rephina closed her eyes and inhaled sharply, determined to keep her frenetic heart in her ribcage where it belonged. But red suited him. Red suited him so well.

His eyes narrowed as he looked her up and down; she swallowed hard and nearly choked on her own tongue. Gaze still half-lidded, he tilted his head up and frowned. "You're familiar..." he began.

"Miss Jeture is the cousin of a recruit, sir," supplied the private. "And she won't be staying here long."

"How dare you--" Whirling on the boy behind the desk, Rephina slammed both hands and the papers they contained down onto the smooth metal surface, ignoring the way both men's hands tightened automatically around their weapons. Leaning over, she directed her full attention to the clerk. "Now you listen to me, sir, and listen well. Here is my identification. I am eighteen years old, a native-born citizen of the Empire, in full health, and have trained with a sword since I was ten. I have three years of international travel on my record and contacts in King Aston of Asturia's private circle. There is no reason for you to turn down my application for enlistment, especially if no laws preventing women from military involvement exist. Do I make myself clear?" It probably would have been smarter to have toyed with the boy like she had Uncle Paxton, but she couldn't twist anyone's reasoning around until they'd given her reason to twist in the first place. Perhaps merely intimidating him would be enough...but—oh Jeture—how would she come across to Dilandau? _ Well, at least he'll never figure out I was the stammering girl in the hall..._

Swallowing to wet a throat Rephina indulged herself in imagining had gone suddenly dry, the private on desk duty, shook his floppy brown hair out of his face. "You won't make it in the--"

"You, boy. What's your name?" Dilandau interrupted pointedly, arms crossed as he watched the scene with interest. Whirling like a top, the boy stiffened to attention facing the new commander.

"It's Miguel, sir. Miguel La--"

Dilandau's open palm slammed into first Miguel's left cheek, then his right on the backhand, knocking the private to the floor. "So you think you can decide what's good for someone, Miguel?" he nearly crowed with triumph and fury as he watched the boy massage his stinging face. "You think that's your job?"

Flushed scarlet for likely many reasons, Miguel bowed. "No, sir. Forgive me, sir. It will never happ--" His words were cut off again as Dilandau, walking around the desk, grabbed him by the roots of his hair and yanked him to his feet. "If you ever want to see combat, Private, learn your place," he ordered. Was this the same man who'd beheaded an enemy general against direct orders? Rephina didn't understand. "Now go and clean out your bunk." He released the boy.

"You can't mean—Sir--"

Dilandau laughed, lips peeling back in a short grinning bark. "I want you in my unit. We camp elsewhere. But you aren't exempt from this afternoon's exercises; I want to be sure you're worthy."

"Yes, sir! I won't let you down again!" Bowing hastily, Miguel dashed off; dizzily Rephina watched him go, absently glad she was near the desk so she'd have something to lean on.

Sighing almost to himself, Dilandau muttered something that could have been "What a pain..." and, leaning over, began rummaging through the desk drawers. His bowed head was close enough to touch; he was close enough to reach out and grab, to hold close, to confess to...

"Th-thank you," she managed as he handed her a blank enlistment form.

He dismissed her words with a shrug. "You won't last, girl," he added over his shoulder with a casual wave, "but at least you've got nerve."

That couldn't be it. He couldn't save her like that and just...leave. "Lord Dilandau!" Rephina blurted, mind racing and finally fixing on a course of action.

He turned around, one eyebrow twitching a bit. "What?"

She bowed. "Allow me to show my appreciation for your courtesy, sir. It would not be right to let such an act go unrepaid."

"Yeess.." The word spilled off his bottom lip. He was growing impatient with her, for all his apparent laziness.

"Please," Rephina practically begged, "allow me to take you out for refreshment."

Dilandau shrugged again. "I'm not hungry."

"Light repast, then." They were entering the stage of the game she understood: the haggling.

Dilandau rolled his eyes. One graceful gloved finger began to massage his temple slowly, just underneath his golden diadem.

"Well, drinks at least, sir."

The finger moved to his mouth and he gently bit it in contemplation. "I suppose," he said eventually. "At least it's better than drinking alone."

o0o0o0o0o0o0

Yawning and not bothering to hide the fact, Dilandau propped his feet up next to the half-full vino bottle and picked up a dinner knife lying at his place. "All right, girl," he ordered languidly, running his finger over the knife and watching the rippling reflection of the drink in its polished surface, "amuse me."

"Oh, I'd much rather you tell me about yourself, Lord Dilandau," Rephina demurred easily, putting down her empty glass. She had been careful not to pour herself too much vino, but the drink's effects plus her old confidence returning boosted her audacity considerably. "Is it true you've been put in charge of an elite unit by--"

"The emperor himself, yes, yes." He helped himself to more of the beverage. "You're not getting in. Neither is your cousin...unless he impresses me." Dilandau downed his glass in one gulp, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he threw his head back.

Was that what he thought this was about? That she was another Uncle Paxton—another Meiden Fassa—bribing and buttering until she was slippery enough to slide into privileges she hadn't actually earned? Rephina was mortified. "I don't ask for favors, sir, and certainly not while I'm repaying one. I do not expect placement in your unit...does it have a name yet, sir?" 'Dilandau's Unit' was just so dry. An elite task force, Rephina figured, should at least sound impressive; she was certain Kagero would have concurred.

He snorted and clanged his glass down. "Not until I see it."

The word popped into her head and out of her mouth simultaneously. "Dragonslayers."

"Eh?" He'd started to fiddle with the knife again but looked up from his new toy.

"Name it the Dragonslayers." She left off the "sir" in a burst of camaraderie. Weren't people supposed to return your feelings? So if she acted comfortable with him, maybe their conversations would fill memories and not diary pages.

He smiled, but only with half of his face. "Oh, somehow I don't think we'll be dragon hunting...though that would be fun..." He caressed the blade of the knife lightly. "The Zaibach Empire's Dragonslayers...my Dragonslayers...that's not half-bad. How'd you think of that, girl?"

His lilting voice switched from pensive to sharp. Rephina started. "Oh!...Something my cousin said, actually. 'To slay a dragon is to stare down death and win.' Because people's fears draw them...or something..." Ryuon's reasoning seemed paltry and childish viewed in the light shining from those deep red eyes. "It was in reference to your courage, sir."

He made no reply. After reaching for the vino only to discover the bottle was empty, her idol sighed deeply. "How annoying...this turned out to be a boring morning after all. Ah well. This afternoon should be interesting, assuming anyone in this dump has talent. So long, girl." Unfolding himself from his chair, he strolled away, leaving both the bill and Rephina at the table.

She watched his receding back in stunned silence. Other tables' conversations washed over her stupefied brain: jittery couples on their first outing...middle-aged men debating political issues about which neither were well-informed...families trying to placate their whining children...snippets of news from across the empire. Rephina heard it all and processed none. The lost cities of Atlantis could have fallen from the skies around her, and their impact would have registered as mere white noise. The emperor himself could have approached her, and his would have been just another face. Dilandau was gone. In an eyeblink, he had brushed her off and vanished back into the world he knew, the world she now longed to join, for it was his world. He had saved her...and he didn't even know it. She hadn't been given the chance to tell him.

No, that was untrue. She'd been given the chance and squandered it. But there was still time. Rephina pushed to the front of the bar, paid the check, overtipped the waiter, ans rushed out the door. Dilandau hadn't seemed in any great hurry to return despite his apparent apathy to her presence. There was still time...

_Dear Dilandau,_

_I'm sorry if I offended you when we talked earlier; I meant to pay you a compliment but fear I was overly ingratiating. You probably want nothing to do with me right now, but my feelings will not let me be and so I must impose yet again. Lord Dilandau, do not push me away! All I want now is to learn from you—no, to be with you. For that, I have thrown everything else aside. _

_Please don't let it all be in vain! _

O0o0o0o0o0o0

So will she catch him? Will she realize he's a bad influence on her or keep running headlong into disaster (cuz the lifestyle she wants doesn't exist)? Does anyone miss Kagero as much as I do? Does anyone really care?

Thankfully, her lovesickness will get pushed to the back of her mind soon and the next chapter is almost solely about Ryuon. Tryouts, baby!


	4. Robber

I have a reason for posting this frequently (which is an odd statement in itself; usually I end up apologizing for taking so long). See, I've been writing this ritually in a notebook every night, and since extracurricular activities haven't started up yet at college I have loads of time on my hands, and I need something to break up my assigned reading, so...I've been typing. So anyone who's feeling overwhelmed by the glut of Fetchie fiction lately...I swear I'll slow down to a reasonable pace soon. In the meantime, however, I'd like to get as much done as I can to compensate should I get insanely busy.

I don't own Escaflowne. I don't even seemingly own the minds of the people whose personalities I developed; Ryuon essentially wrote this one, not me. HWB, I know you don't get it when I say that. Just smile and nod and review. Good boy.

**Chapter Four: Robber**

"Um, Ryuon? That boot goes on the other foot, Sorceror."

Looking down, he saw that Kagero was right. "Oh. Sorry."

Kagero chuckled, ran a whetstone down his sword one last time; they'd be using wooden weapons for the trial, but it couldn't hurt to be prepared. "What is wrong with you? If you were any paler you'd fade away. If he picks you, he picks you. Why put yourself under all that stress?"

"Because I saw him with my cousin!" Ryuon turned on his friend, eyes wild and blond curls swinging. "It was starting to rain and she was holding her cloak above his head. Then she walked over to the front desk and...gods, Kagero, how could I have been so stupid? No wonder she wants to join the goddamn army. Never mind that it's backbreaking labor no woman should undertake and requires complete trust when she's never even admitted an emotion without me wearing her down! No, it's worth selling her soul to the art of war because Soldier Baby has a pair of pretty ruby eyes. Do you think his eyes are pretty, Kagero? Cause she sure does!"

"I wouldn't know..." Kagero began, confused. "But I'll check when I see him. Get a real good look. Then I'll let you know."

"Shut up. Do you see me laughing? Damn!" Ryuon slammed his fist against his locker, causing Shesta two benches over to jump. "I thought she was better than that. Now she's gonna get herself killed...and I might end up following the man she died for. The overprivileged, underaged, immature, bloodthirsty--"

"Um, Ryuon?"

"colorless homicidal selfish berserking--"

_Wham._

Something collided with the side of Ryuon's head; his mind blanked, then exploded in pain as he slammed into the locker and bounced off to land face-down and sprawling on the bench. Blinking through shards of pain, he felt his nose began to dribble blood, could sense the ginger tenderness of an impending bruise on his temple.

"Go on," said Dilandau's voice. "Quite a creative string of words there, soldier."

Feeling his teeth with his tongue, Ryuon found that none were gone and he could speak. "Forgive me, sir," he mumbled dumbly, more ashamed of losing control than what he'd said. "I forgot my place. Thank you for correcting me, sir."

Someone in the audience snickered. Hearing the sound, Dilandau pointed in its direction. "You there. Whoever that was. Pack up; you're out. Anyone else having fun?" Dead silence greeted his words. He smiled. "Too bad. I am." Still smirking, he pulled Ryuon to his feet, who wavered uncertainly and had to steady himself against the wall with one hand while pinching his bloody nose with the other. "Fix that," the commander told him, handing him a handkerchief. "But don't take too long. I want you following in at least three miets. Everyone else—move out!" The barrack emptied in record time, Kagero giving his friend a final pat of encouragement before hastening away. Ryuon was left alone on the bench, throbbing head and pulsing nose keeping him company.

"Rephina, you idiot," he muttered to himself. "What have you done?"

o0o0o0o0o0o0

His head still hurt, and the steady rainfall had kept the blood on his face from drying completely. Only two recruits beside him were left in the line—the line that would determine their destinies.

"Next!" Dilandau ordered as Gatty limped off the field, bruised but unbroken after the longest sparring round of the afternoon. He'd actually held his own, seeking to exploit Dilandau's weaknesses instead of just resorting to the patterned attack strokes the privates had been taught. Unfortunately for him, he hadn't found any.

Kagero made room for Gatty in the coliseum stands; he'd been early in line and performed, in Ryuon's eyes, admirably under the circumstances, putting up a defense despite the fact that the rain had fogged over his glasses completely. All right, so Dilandau had nearly literally wiped the arena floor with him. At least Kagero had given it his best try.

"Which is more than I'll be able to," Ryuon grumbled. Every inch of his body seemed sore, or stiff, or both from landing on the bench awkwardly. Damn it all to the cursed halls of Atlantis and back.

"Next."

That had been quick. How could the man still be going strong after sparring all morning? Was he even human? Looking at Dilandau's wide, giddy eyes as the fight began, Ryuon had his doubts.

"Weak—weak—you're all weak!" His opponent's wooden sword went flying and Dilandau knocked the boy to the ground. "Next!...oh. It's you. I thought you would leave."

"I don't run from anything," Ryuon replied, brushing his hair out of his face and trying not to wince as he lifted his sword. "Especially not what I don't fear."

"You're a feisty one...I like that!" Grinning wildly, Dilandau charged. "You should have left while you had the chance."

"I pleaded forgiveness," snarled Ryuon as he dodged a blow, though he felt something in his frame creak. "If you didn't accept--"

"You aren't sorry. Why did you say it? I'll make you sorry!"

A blow to the knees made him stumble; a hit to the gut emptied his lungs, but Ryuon forced himself not to fall. "My cousin. You—seduced my cousin!"

Dilandau stopped in mid-feint, a blank look on his face; Ryuon's wooden sword came crashing into his shoulder but he didn't even flinch. "You..." he giggled, pointing at Ryuon, "you're the..." He broke off and even lowered his sword, laughing to himself in a surprisingly girlish fashion that made his would-be soldiers trade worried glances. For his part, Ryuon tried to take advantage of the situation and charged, slipped--

The mud squelched around his head in mere moments as he was knocked flat on his back, staring up at the dreary sky—and Dilandau's dripping but victorious form.

"I hate rain," Dilandau commented to himself, surveying the clouds and still smiling. He shouldered his practice sword after the blow. "It always makes me so depressed. And I hate rumors like that!" Kicking Ryuon, the young commander exited the field, leaving his hopeful followers to wait in the elements for their results. No one, not even Kagero, helped Ryuon ease his sore body back onto his feet. So he lay where he had fallen, letting the sky weep down onto his face.

He was still there when Dilandau returned with a list of names, and he stayed long after his comrades had departed for the barracks and the bars, either to celebrate or drown disappointment. Unlike Dilandau, Ryuon was grateful for the rain. As long as it drizzled, it would hide the other moisture trickling down his cheeks.

O0o0o0o0o0o0

"What did he do to you? Mud wrestling?" Rephina asked when her cousin finally made his entrance to the flat. Ryuon hadn't bothered to shower. He didn't care about the dirt. "And where's Kagero? I cooked extra because I thought he'd be coming."

"Celebrating with the other Dragonslayers," said Ryuon dully, tracking mud across the floor and depositing his slimy person at the table. "He might drop by later."

"Oh, you mean you didn't make it...Wait." Putting down the dishtowel she'd been wiping plates with when he arrived, Rephina sat across from him. "What did you call them?"

"Dragonslayers," he replied in the same flat voice, studying the mud beneath his fingernails like he'd never before seen such a phenomenon. "Because they'd be staring down death. Any ideas as to how he came up with that reasoning? Because I'm baffled..."

Rephina pursed her lips. "So we met. He did me a favor. I took him out for a drink as a thank you."

"Do tell."

"What exactly is wrong with that?"

"You hate the army!" Ryuon burst. "You've always said so, and while I've disagreed I honored your right to differ. And I'd honor your right to change your mind, but...Father told me what happened when you quit. What you said. Then I saw you and...that man together. I'm not stupid. I can figure it out. The pretty eyes, right?"

"I thought you admired him!"

"That was before he robbed you of consideration for others. I can't admire any man who does that to people." The pot on the stove began to clatter, but he motioned for her to let it be. He wasn't hungry.

She stared at him in dumbfounded anger. "Robbed?...He's liberated me!"

"Oh, I bet he liberated you of a lot this afternoon," Ryuon quipped, agitation leading him to voice his unfounded suspicions. Jaw dropping, Rephina gaped at the accusation, then gathering her skirts jumped out of her chair and stalked away. From the direction of her bedroom he could hear vague crashing sounds but made no move to investigate.

Finally she reappeared, face flushed but no less frustrated. "If you must know," she said in deliberately calm tones, sitting once more and fastidiously smoothing her skirts, "he didn't touch me. Indeed, he didn't even pay much attention to me. I'm sorry for worrying you; in fact, I'm sorry for mentioning him to you at all."

He cracked a smile, his first of the day. "A fat lot of good that does us. I'm a Dragonslayer now."

o0o0o0o0o0o0

a/n: No, I don't know where that idea came from either. I was just writing, and in the back of my head I was wondering why Ryuon was suddenly so worked up, and he screamed at me that he thought Dilandau and Rephina were playing Allen and Marlene in the bar. Pervy teenage boy. Soiling my pretty little story.

Ahem. To punish Ryuon for a) having a dirty mind and mouth and b) raising the angst-and-tension factor in this story prematurely, I'm shipping him off to DS camp next chapter. Uncle Paxton shall return instead, to make Rephina's life even more miserable...but she will get help from a most unexpected quarter. And we'll draw even closer to the good bits, with the melefs and stuff. See you there!


	5. Her Savior

Much of a newsish nature has transpired, so here is an update: 1. This will no longer tie into "Judecca"; I did too good of a job writing a nice tight plot for that to squeeze in a subplot thingie as a sequel to this. Instead, my NaNo will be a continuation/counterfactual hypothesis...involving Rephina and the Atlantis Machine...but I don't want to give much away. 2. My homepage has changed. Please, everyone visit and look at my shiny new LiveJournal and my pretty picture gallery. And if you've read "Judecca," take my poll. 3. I'm probably getting the Esca game! So I'll get to experience Rephina firsthand...scans and screenshots to come. 4. Someone came and took the rights to Escaflowne away from me, so I don't own it any more. JK. I never have.

That's it for the Fetchie News Tonight. On with the show...which revolves around letters, it seems...

**Chapter Five: Her Savior**

_Dear Lord Dilandau,_

_I never thought I would say this, but thank you for requiring your Dragonslayers—_all_ your Dragonslayers—to live in a separate compound. While I miss Ryuon, certain...harsh words...which passed between us made it painfully obvious that we no longer understand each other. I'm glad, then, that we were granted a respite from each other's company before our relationship was irretrievably broken. Once more, sir, I am in your debt._

_Hopefully the long hours spent in your company will convince Ryuon of your true character. I am ashamed to admit he harbored certain suspicions about your intentions toward me and would not be assuaged. By now, I trust you have sorted him out. How is training going, by the way? Well, I should hope._

_Speaking of training—I don't mean to complain, but it has now been several weeks since I submitted my enlistment papers and have received no reply from the army. This can hardly be normal; but they would not turn me down without even bothering to inform me, would they? If I did not fear that it would hurt my chances of acceptance even more, I would march down to that recruitment office and demand an explanation! Yet I will be patient; you did, after all, rob them of at least one desk clerk. Surely once the new people are accustomed to the post my form will be processed._

_No, that rings false even on the page, and you are the one person I cannot lie to, my Lord Dilandau. Let the truth be out, then: they refuse to even look at my form, and I shall shortly be owing rent to Uncle Paxton as per our new agreement but cannot seek employment elsewhere while my military status remains unknown. I've landed myself in a hopeless mess; in eagerness to cut my ties (an act which I still cannot regret) I neglected to take care of the order in which they were sliced._

_But I am certain you tire of my petty troubles. If Ryuon gives you any further trouble I shall sort him out. Send my love to him and Kagero...and, if I may be so bold, to you as well._

Ending her diary entry for the day, Rephina sucked thoughtfully on the tip of her pen and debated striking the last line. True, the real Lord Dilandau would never read these correspondences; but could she admit her feelings to even the imaginary one receiving her "letters"?

The word "love" was replaced with "regards." "Coward," she scolded herself with a cynical smile, but her mood soon evaporated and dampened. What she'd written to Dilandau was, as she'd professed, pure truth. The army hadn't responded, and she was running out of time.

"Girl, open up! I know you're in there."

Ye gods, already? No. She wouldn't let him in. If Paxton Jetura wanted to unjustly demand that she pay her rent early, he would have to break down the door first. And then pay for repairs afterwards. Sitting up a little straighter, Rephina primly clasped her hands and rested them on her knees. Should he blunder in, she was determined to remain the epitome of composure. No more flying off the handle. No more scaring army desk clerks. And no more lovesick chasing after untetherable men. Ryuon's reaction had taught her her lesson. From now on, Dilandau was going to have to come after her...not that she'd be playing very hard to get.

"Girl, don't make me talk through the...oh, hell." A fumbling noise, a scratching noise, and a sloppily folded piece of paper was shoved under her front door. "Read that. And pack extra undershirts; the valley gets cold at night." Clomping footsteps heralded his departure; she waited until they were nary a patter before serenely rising and retrieving the note. Unfolding it with the well-bred grace of royalty and rather enjoying her little charade, she calmly perused the note's contents.

Then she swore so harshly even airship sailors would have cringed.

"The NERVE of the man!" Rephina fumed, crumpling the note and dashing it to the floor, then, reconsidering, picking it up and smoothing it out to reread it. No, it was the same. The same spiteful words, scrawled messily in her uncle's tight grasping script:

_Get off your pedestal in a week's time, as I need another hand for my Fanelian trading trip & can't get a replacement in time. We'll discuss your reemployment in the store after the trip—but any move to sway my opinion about taking you back on & I'll make sure no regiment ever even considers your application. I'm asking you as family, girl, and don't give a damn how you feel about that. The point of family is that they aren't chosen, but you're loyal anyway. Otherwise I wouldn't have put up with this behavior._

_Have your things packed and ready to load on the caravan by this time next week._ He hadn't bothered to sign it.

She couldn't go. She couldn't comply to a note like that. Her pride, dragon that it was, wouldn't allow it. Stalking over to the gas light illuminating a corner the day's hazy sunlight couldn't penetrate, Rephina fed the hateful note to the flame, then—still buoyed by rage—flung open her window and let the breeze blow back her hair. Fumes washing past her, she leaned out; the sounds of the metropolis rumbled and clanked below while the Mystic Moon hung in the smog-streaked green sky above. The oily fingerprints of Progress smudged everything, even the air, but she breathed deeply despite the smell. Where had her poise vanished to? Why couldn't she stay in control? This city—the fruit of centuries of labor under the emperor's watchful eye—was supposed to be Paradise. So how come she wasn't happy?

The note had burned to scraps and ashes, collected in the tray under the flickering blue light. She commended them to the breeze and watched the charred confetti spiral down to the pavement, then turned her glance back up to the sky. That same harsh sun beat down with more kindness upon Asturia, it seemed, than it did the empire. But hadn't it been in Asturia that all her troubles began?

"Childish, girl," she reprimanded herself. "Don't blame Fassa. Jeture knows he's got enough sins. You did this to yourself, and you'll solve it yourself."

Oh, who was she kidding? Paxton Jetura only took advice without a fee from one person on all of Gaea. Resigning herself to the noose wrapping itself around her neck, she sat wearily down at her writing desk and began penning yet another letter, this time to her cousin.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o

"Listen up, people." Dilandau paced the training arena like a prowling leopard, his Dragonslayers on their knees in perfectly symmetrical rows. Too symmetrical: one member of the fifteen-man company was absent. "I won't say this again. You aren't giving me enough so far. As a team, you work decently enough—but war is not a team sport. It's every man for himself, and while you'll always be under my orders it's your responsibility to see you don't get killed or anything else that might disgrace my name. We're going out in the guymelefs again today—but no one is allowed to open a comm link to anyone but me. I want everyone to figure out, by themselves, how to execute the maneuvers I command. Do I make myself clear?"

"But sir--" Gatti ventured despite the warning look Kagero shot his way "--what if we can't work the guymelef and we crash?"

Their commander snarled but did not lash out, probably because the offending soldier was already on the ground. "See to it that doesn't happen! If it does, you're on your own! Now. To the real purpose of this meeting." Fourteen heads snapped up in interested anticipation, then lowered hastily at a glare from their Lord. When Dilandau's back was turned, Kagero dared to push his glasses up his sweaty nose. If this was about what he thought it was...gods, what would he do?

"Kagero."

Oh Jeture, to use a Ryuon expression. "Sir?"

"Where's Ryuon?"

Kagero mumbled his reply and got a death glare in return. "Speak up!"

"Fanelia, sir. He was needed in Fanelia."

"That backwater runt of a country?...Fine. You're excused from training. You're running an errand for me—and testing a prototype of something Strategos thought up. It's already been installed in your unit. Now get ready; I need you to fetch something."

Standing, Kagero bowed. "Yes, sir. Um, where am I...?"

Dilandau grinned: the leopard baring his fangs. "Fanelia."

o0o0o0o0o0

Rephina took the clothes out of Ryuon's suitcase almost as fast as he put them in. "This wasn't what I had in mind when I asked for 'help'," she informed him angrily for the thousandth time. "A letter would have sufficed."

"I'd rather be in Fanelia at my father's mercy than out there under..." He let the name hang unspoken in the air, unwilling to start that argument again.

"So you're looking to get kicked off? What about the spy job? Ryu, you can't do this to me!" She gave up on keeping the clothes folded and started hurling them to the floor as she lifted them out. "You can't do this to yourself!"

"Why not? You get to stay home, dignity intact, military options still open and not at Father's beck and call, and I get to do some family bonding and learn a bit about the mercantile life. Then we both get to rejoin the nice, sane Zaibach footsoldiers. It's a perfectly safe tradeoff, if you ask me."

"I wanted you to convince him not to take me, not to sacrifice your career!" They'd run out of clothes, so she helped him pick shirts off the ground but wouldn't let him put them back in the bag. "I was so proud of you! Don't give all that up for me!"

Ryuon shot her an amused look. "Don't be stupid, Reph," he chided darkly, but refused to elaborate on the statement.

Sighing, Rephina tossed a shirt into the suitcase. "Fine. I'll leave you to—to pack, then. Sorry I wrinkled everything." Fists clenched in her skirts, she walked out of his room with as much poise as she could muster, back to her charade of composure. Back to imaginary letters and ideal warriors—the kind who, she was certain, would honor her feelings instead of misguidedly walking all over them.

_Please believe me, my Lord, that it was never my intent for Ryuon to desert you. I understand his infraction must be treated with harshness—it is not only your unit but also the army he has temporarily deserted—but I implore you not to discharge him entirely...if he loses his position because of me, even if he doesn't care, I will never forgive myself! I suppose, though, I'm only getting what I deserve for involving him in this instead of handling it myself. Next time, things will be different._

_I promise._

O0o0o0o0o0

OMG. I just realized something. I've been worried all along about Rephina being a little Sue-ish...and now I'm starting to think Ryuon is. Opinions?

When swallowing one's pride, can one choke? The answer and more when a third party gets involved in Rephina and Ryuon's Family Issues...and a rousing game of Fanelia-Fanelia-Who-Stays-In-Fanelia gets played. All in the next chapter of "White Nymph!"


	6. Master's Orders

Here is a chapter of decent length, I suppose...these have been getting rather short of late and I'm not sure why. Maybe I don't have much to say...

If you all will permit me to make a quick shameless plug before the story starts up again, I beseech you to consider joining an RP I'm trying to start on LiveJournal. It would be a humorous retelling of Esca from Zaibach's POV...I just like the name "Folken Fanel's Flying Circus" too much for it to go to waste. Please, please, please let me know if you're interested. No characters have been officially claimed as yet!

I don't own Escaflowne. (well, I own the DVDs, but that's not quite the same). I also don't own YouTube, where episodes 1-11 are currently available in sub. WHOEVER PUT THAT UP, I LOVE YOU! (you can't fast-forward within a scene on my dvd player...lots of homework got done waiting for the DS to show up so I could research this story. Now I just have to wait for it to load.)

Wow, that's really sad. Onto the show...

**Chapter Six: Master's Orders**

The next morning, Rephina bid her uncle and cousin a not-so-fond farewell, watched the merchant caravan until its propellers were a mere speck on the horizon, then went back to her flat and crashed onto the bed. She remained there for a full three hours, escaping temporarily from the guilt and shame biting her, but life had to go on. If these hours, these days, were bought at the price of Ryuon's future, she had to make them worthwhile.

Trying to assuage herself, she opened up Paxton's shop in the hopes she could generate at least a paltry profit for him in his absence. Really, she didn't know which was stranger—Ryuon's insistence that he go in her place or Paxton's acceptance of the switch. Ryuon lacked both training and experience; the hated note had implied both would be needed for this trip. Really, what was so stressful about Fanelia? True, the relative absence of an aristocracy proper like those found in countries like Asturia put a strain on business, but there were plenty of knights in the king (or regent's or whoever) employ with some semblance of disposable income. The country wasn't rolling in gold, to be sure, but it could hardly be called "destitute." A pity it was so small, though. You could tour the civilized part of Fanelia in a day—less if you walked first. Rephina knew. She'd done it in eight hours.

But there were also the villages of beast-men to tour...they liked the novelty of the exotic items, even if not many had money to spare...

Jeture, was she going to ponder Fanelian logistics all day?

"You're pathetic," she informed herself aloud.

"That hurt. Here I was imagining myself a hero," said Kagero, stepping into the shop and pulling the door shut behind him. "Hi, Reph. No need to gape or scold. My presence here is perfectly legal—sanctioned, even. Where's Ryuon?"

"He just left," she informed him ruefully. Gods, he looked good. A few weeks of training under Dilandau and already he carried himself differently. Shoulders thrown back, backbone straight—and flaunting spotless blue armor instead of the usual footsoldier grey. He looked like he could take on a dragon and win.

Then again, this was Kagero. He might just have been trying to make an impressive entrance.

"So what does bring you here, anyway? I doubt Dilandau would send Ryuon someone as backup in case the Fanelians got unruly." Rephina tried to sound lighthearted but, listening, didn't believe herself. And neither did Kagero; pulling a chair over from a furniture display, he sat at the counter and leaned on his elbow. "Let's not joke about this if you don't mean it," he said. "Why did you ask him to do it?"

She stiffened. "I didn't. Uncle Paxton made me mad. I just asked for Ryuon's help, and the next thing I know he's convinced his father that I'd be better off staying here while he went on the Fanelia trip. I never asked him to run away from the army for my sake. Gods, Kagero, do you think I wanted to stay if staying meant knowing every miet was one closer to his court-martial? Don't give me grief. I don't need any more."

"So if a chance to switch back happened your way, would you take it?" He stared at her over the rims of his glasses, eyes unnaturally grave. "If, say, there were a guymelef parked just outside the city whose pilot would fly you wherever you wished—would you tell him to go to Fanelia?" His voice dropped. "Would you be willing to make that sacrifice?"

"Don't be dramatic. Wasn't it you who said not to joke?" she returned softly, turning her back on him; if even she didn't know what kind of expression her face wore, she certainly didn't want Kagero seeing it. So that was how Dilandau had reacted. He'd been willing to give Ryuon one last chance to return. Her chest tightened sweetly at the thought of such nobility...but what good would chasing after Ryuon do now? They'd both, deservedly, look like complete idiots; his reputation was already good as gone anyway; and nothing guaranteed even her following him would make him return. Hopeless, really.

Why had she ever written that stupid letter? This mess was all her fault, for not freeing herself entirely, for not standing on her own—yet to plead independence from obligations regarding Ryuon seemed the basest act imaginable. Ryuon had done this for her, and that connected them, like it or not.

Restless and sensing her indecision, Kagero eased himself into a sitting position on the counter and spoke over his shoulder to her back. "I have orders to bring him back regardless, but I just thought I'd check here first to be sure he'd left and see what you wanted to do. I never actually thought you'd ask something like that from him, figured you'd be mad too. Hell, when he said you'd asked for help, I laughed. You asking for help is like Lord Dilandau showing mercy. It's never gonna happen."

"Well, both did, all right?" Rephina snapped. "I caved, and Dilandau's giving him a second chance. Next thing you know we'll prove that Draconians still exist. Now if you really want to be nice—which you're doing a really bad job of, by the way—go away. Come over for dinner; I'll have my answer then." _I hope._

"Easy, easy." Sliding off the counter, Kagero backed to the door, hands up in a warding gesture. "Strike not the messenger."

"Out," she growled, turning around. Bowing slightly in acknowledgment of overstepping, he fled. Rephina cast a sidelong glance at the model Jeture still observing the world from his shelf above. "I don't know whether to thank you or desert you for that," she told it. "Did it have to be him?"

No divine revelation descended from the heavens. One of the most pathetic things she'd seen in a long time sickly observed her from the mirror. She looked awful, worse than when she'd just returned from Asturia. Now her eyes were completely dead. A walking corpse. A figure deprived of its humanity. A traitor to someone who cared about it.

"If I ever find out it was you who invented guilt," she told the Jeture statue, "I am never speaking to you again."

o0o0o0o0o0

"Gods, it's gorgeous!" Rephina shouted so Kagero could hear her within his control chamber. In front of her, the blue giant slowly rotated its limbs, violet cloak rippling in the air, checking all systems for any problems. She'd never seen a Zaibach guymelef before, and began to fully understand why pilots were among the most revered soldiers in the army—in the empire even. Its streamlined silhouette coupled with sheer hugeness commanded respect and attention. And to think that Ryuon was throwing even this away--

That settled it. She had to stop him.

"Hang on. I'm picking you up. Ready?" Amplified, Kagero's voice came drifting down to her; she stepped backwards as the machine bent one knee and lowered an arm. "Brace yourself."

_For what?_ Rephina wondered, then screamed as something silver shot out of the arm and wrapped itself around her body. The substance congealed, effectively trapping her within up to her shoulders. Squirming, she gasped up at him, torso hammering with her heartbeat. "A more specific warning would have been nice!" she yelled at him, furious.

"This is the easiest way to make sure you don't fall," Kagero replied, standing his melef up and lifting her off the ground. "And if it makes you feel any better, I'm covered in the stuff too."

"That really makes all the difference," she drawled, still upset but calming down slightly. Thinking it over, this method of carriage made sense; she hadn't considered, when she'd accepted Kagero's offer, how two people were going to fly to Fanelia in a one-man guymelef. She just hoped whatever it was covering her wouldn't suddenly loosen.

Considering the alternative, she winced. Or tighten. Tightening would be bad too. What a horrible way to die--

"Lifting off!" The wind _whooshed_ through her hair as Kagero launched the machine into the air with a leap, its legs folding together and head rotating downward for flight. "Comfortable?"

"For now," she hollered over the wind and the hum of machinery. "Just don't squeeze any tighter."

He laughed. "Gods, Reph, what kind of a bastard do you think I am? The crima claws can do all sorts of nasty things, but only someone truly sick would crush somebody with them."

"I guess you're right," she agreed, craning her neck for a better view of the landscape below her. So this was flying. This was what it was like to be free from even "gravity," that strange force the Emperor insisted all children be taught about. Below her, those teachings and that country were vanishing into memory; ahead of her...lay the world. And here, in the sky, she felt it was hers for the taking. Never mind that her limbs were bound. Never mind that she was speeding towards a situation that could prove embarrassing at least and incendiary at worst. For the moment, she was unencumbered. For the moment, she could fly.

Rephina promised herself on the spot that, should her military application ever be accepted, she would make it into the melef squads if it killed her.

O0o0o0o0o0

Ryuon Jetura, member of the Zaibach Army elite and communications specialist in the making, had gone into hiding. From his father.

"What's this I hear about our best merchandise walking off with a family who hardly paid half the asking price? Boy? Where are you?" In his current mood, Ryuon was sorely tempted to drop an apple on his father's round pate below him but resisted the urge, if only to remain hidden. Discovery meant not only confrontation but also having to get down from the tree in which he sat—and, as it was a near-miracle he'd been able to scale the thing in the first place, he did not look forward to climbing down. For starters, he wasn't sure he'd be able to.

Taking a bite of an apple fresh off the branch, Ryuon half-frowned at its tartness and leaned his back against the trunk. For the past day, he'd tried to learn from his father the ins and outs of haggling, of helping the customer arrive at an acceptable price, but failed spectacularly. A middle ground between obstinacy and consideration had to be firmly grasped by the skilled trader; Ryuon fluctuated between the two. Either he dug his heels in and the customer left dissatisfied or the let the villagers walk all over him. Which had been occurring with increasing frequency.

"So I'm hiding in a tree," he muttered, taking another bite and wiping juice off his chin. "How incredibly mature." In his mind's ear, he sounded like Rephina. No surprises there. He'd thought about her all day—when he wasn't thinking about the upcoming Dragonslayer trials. Soon Lord Dilandau would be testing them again, assigning each boy a position within the company. Second-in-command—small groups leaders—guardsmen—_spy_.

But he'd gotten over that. There would be other chances. No point in grabbing at one in which nothing else about the situation appealed. What was done, was done. He knew the risk he'd taken and accepted any possible consequences. He wasn't a child.

No, he was just up in a tree eating an apple instead of training for war because if he'd spent one more day in Dilandau Albatou's presence, the commander likely would've found Ryuon's fingers wrapped around his alabaster neck.

Fuming anew, he chomped on the apple with a vengeance. Bad enough the man had been a point of dissension between him and Rephina for which Ryuon had never properly apologized. Bad enough the only respect Dilandau ever accorded his soldiers was their mere position. Bad enough what Ryuon had taken for a warrior's spirit in the man downgraded in person to common bullying. No, the truly infuriating thing about "Lord Dilandau" was that no one else seemed to care. He could hit them, overwork them, insult them, and still they'd run to polish his armor and refill his vino. Why? Because they owed him. They were willing to overlook the abuse for the sake of their honor and their giant blue killing machines. What was so honorable about bowing to a petty tyrant? Not a damn thing.

"Soldier Baby," he reflected bitterly, turning the apple core over in his hands. "The maturity level's about right. Throw a tantrum and everyone'll come running." Standing and hefting the core, he tossed it into the forest behind him; he heard a soft "thunk" as it fell.

A shadow fell over the trees and a low hum began to fill the air. Ryuon recognized the sound after two weeks of practically hearing it in his sleep: a guymelef. An Alseides, the Dragonslayers' model. But why?

"Hang on tight!" came a voice from above, and a girlish shriek of excitement cut the air as one of the blue giants prepared its descent. Flattened against the tree trunk, Ryuon watched, confusion and interest mounting. Whoever it was—and it had sounded like Kagero—was flying with an arm out, unorthodox for the normally fairly aerodynamic design of the flight mode. Not only that, it was carrying--

A blonde ponytail waved like a flag in the wind as the guymelef touched down heavily; sharp blue eyes met his own an an incredibly familiar voice cried, "Holy Jeture, look out! He's right there!"

"What the...whoa. Ryuon, since when did the birds buy Asturian imports? Are you expanding your markets?"

Had he still been holding the apple core, he would have chucked it at both of them with all his strength. He knew why they'd come, and he hated them for it. Couldn't they just leave well enough alone? Did they really want another argument over who was going to be the martyr? Didn't they see that he couldn't go back now?

Or could they also tell that he really wanted to?

"Let me guess," he scowled, torn between lashing out and hugging his cousin, crima claw-blanket and all. "You wrote another letter."

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

a/n: So he's dead wrong. The fact remains...the original plot of the story has started! At first there was much less of a focus on the dynamics between the characters and more just "here's how Rephina got a melef"...but I'm too shojo to not have fun with relationships and stuff. Things start happening in the next chapter...which also sees a return of Random Cameo Hour. We've had a drought of show leads lately...I intend to fix that. It ought to be fun.

Here's the official preview, then: In Chapter Seven, Rephina chases a thief, is saved by quite possibly the most in-shape old guy ever, and encounters someone who's affected her life more than she knows. She also gets a strange present from this man...and Uncle Paxton is actually pleased by something!

Thanks for reading so far and I hope you stay tuned. Honestly, if this weren't my story I don't know if I'd read it, so your attention is VERY MUCH appreciated. Thank you so much and see you next time!


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